


Nobodies

by parkguardian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkguardian/pseuds/parkguardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac is alone more often than not, and Stiles makes unexpectedly good company when he can't get to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>"Why do you keep me around?" Isaac had asked, after flipping through one of the many comics Stiles kept stacked on his shelves.</em></p>
<p>  <em>"I get lonely," Stiles admitted, "and bored. Besides, Scott won't watch Star Wars with me. Especially not past midnight. In the middle of the week."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobodies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ewerts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewerts/gifts).



> in which sleep deprivation and sarcasm make a great combo

They had nobody.  
  
Stiles, chasing the idea of his dream girl who still couldn't put together that being prone to finding dead bodies and loving shoes with stilt heels wasn't a good combination; Isaac, with his sudden affections being aimed at his best friend's ex-and-first-love, who also tried to kill him on multiple occasions.  
  
They didn't like each other. They tried to make it very clear that what they were doing was working out their frustrations, nothing more. It was their secret, something they could keep behind the firmly closed door of Stiles' bedroom, panting into open mouths and grabbing at hair and clothes.  
  
Isaac liked to wander. He'd walk through rain drudged forests at the outskirts of Beacon Hills, staring up at the moon. He had nightmares often, and he was grateful that being a werewolf meant he could run on a few short hours of sleep for days at a time. His eyes were sunken and hooded purple because of it. It's not like he had any other options available. He dealt with insomnia and nightmares by making the rounds through the houses of his pack.  
  
On some level, Scott knew that Isaac showing up at odd hours of the night was going to become a habit. He never turned Isaac away. Sometimes he'd offer Isaac a place next to him in the ruffled sheets of his bed, and each time, Isaac would fall asleep on the floor. It made going to school the next day rough. Melissa was helpful. She started making enough breakfast for three, going as far as ruffling Isaac's hair and kissing him on the cheek before he left with Scott.  
  
He'd tuck himself into the corner of the roof at Allison's. He didn't like to burst in on her, not when she was sleeping. He tried his best to stay on good terms with her, because he wanted her to trust him. Isaac couldn't doze off on these nights, no matter how tired. His nerves would rack with his close proximity to Allison, and he'd end up watching the sun slink up over the horizon. He'd jump and run off the minute he heard Allison's alarm blaring to wake her up.  
  
It was dangerous to go to Lydia's. Big, rich house rigged with alarms and guarded by a puffball of a vicious dog. Isaac didn't know what the hell was up with this dog, 'cause he'd even tried doing that glow eye'd trick Scott could pull off, but it never seemed to work for him.  
  
Isaac would find himself surprised each time he stood in the dimly lit hallways of Stiles' house. Alright, maybe he had to break in a little tiny bit. It was the sheriff's house after all. No way Papa Stilinski would just leave the door _unlocked_.

Stiles was not like anyone else on Isaac's circuit.  
  
This was because Stiles couldn't sleep either, and when Isaac would step into the threshold of Stiles' bedroom, he'd find the shorter boy at his desk. Whether he was reading up on some random article, scribbling out ideas, watching anime, or playing a mindless game at his computer, it didn't matter. 3 am would roll around and Isaac would find Stiles bouncing with energy.  
  
Another unspoken habit started to form. If Scott fell asleep and Isaac found he still could not, he'd make the walk up the block to Stiles' house and keep him company. They were both surrounded with friends and acquaintances who were willing to help them through supernatural bullshittery, but everyone had coupled off, leaving Isaac to settle with Stiles in the silence of twilight.  
  
"Why do you keep me around?" Isaac had asked, after flipping through one of the many comics Stiles kept stacked on his shelves.  
  
"I get lonely," Stiles admitted, "and bored. Besides, Scott won't watch Star Wars with me. Especially not past midnight. In the middle of the week."  
  
"He knows where to draw the line, Stilinski," Isaac replied easily, their banter flowing over the noise of the colorful game Stiles had wrapped his attention into. "Unlike you. You still think Luke's better than Han Solo, which is just plain wrong."  
  
Stiles didn't reply, simply jabbed the space bar with his long index finger and Isaac could see the shadow of a smile on his lips even though he hadn't turned away from the screen.  
  
Stiles wasn't one for quiet moments, though, and a beat later he asked:  
  
"Why do you come here every night?"  
  
"I'm lonely. I'm bored," Isaac echoed.

"Shut the fuck up," Stiles said, laughing. His laugh was high pitched and a little scratchy. This time, he did turn around so he could throw a crumpled ball of paper at Isaac's head. It hit him in the nose and bounced onto the carpet.

They didn't try to look for explanations beyond that point.  
  
More habits, to comfort one another, because surprise! Stiles had nightmares, too. He'd jump awake and try to smother his screams through gritted teeth. Isaac would climb up onto the bed and rub circles into his bed so that Stiles could fall back to sleep.  
  
Stiles had only ever witnessed Isaac's night terrors once before. It was lucky that Isaac had passed out before Stiles had, but it didn't last long. Twenty minutes of Isaac dozing and his stinging yellow eyes shot open, claws shredding at the rug. Stiles jumped and pinned him down, forcing Isaac to count his splayed fingers to reassure him he'd broken out of the dream. Isaac's claws sheathed and Stiles made Isaac count his own fingers, too. Y'know, just in case.  
  
All rituals came to their breaking point, however, as Isaac quickly realized. Stiles was easily frustrated, in every way. If Isaac repeatedly did things to annoy him, it got on Stiles' nerves quick. If Isaac felt more hands on than usual, letting his palm press to Stiles' side when they sat squished together on Stiles' bed to watch Netflix on his laptop, then it also caused Stiles to get riled.  
  
It all fell apart during an especially rambling conversation. The clock's red digital numbers had slotted into reading 2:48.  
  
"It's hard being so alone," Stiles groaned, scratching his scalp with rounded nails and successfully stirring up the nest of his hair. "Especially when you've got all these people around you that care, 'cause if you even have that much, then you can't ever complain about being alone without them getting upset over it."  
  
Stiles stuck his tongue out, made a noise that sounded an awful lot like ick and egh, rolled his eyes.  
  
"I mean, you know Scott. I love the guy, but every time he's catchin' tail and I'm still making heart eyes at Lydia, he pulls that best friend card. You know the one. Where he says the one thing you wouldn't be able to stand if it were coming out of anyone else's mouth," Stiles said.

"But Stiles, you have _me_ ," Isaac mocked, tipping his head back with exaggeration.  
  
"Ding-ding-ding! That's it, right there. I have him, but I can't exactly go around making out with him. Well, not _anymore_ , 'cause he thinks he's straight now--"  
  
Isaac raised his eyebrows.  
  
"--it's a long story, don't ask. What I _mean_ is--"  
  
"You don't have anyone to kiss. Not even for the hell of it," Isaac said, just about summing it up.  
  
"Yep. That just about sums it up," Stiles nodded.  
  
They reveled in a welcomed second of silence, both exhaling slowly. They were sprawled out on the top of Stiles' blankets, their legs hanging off the end of the bed. Isaac was still wearing his shoes, and the very point of the toes were poking at the ground. Stiles was stripped down to night clothes, though he never really went around shirtless. He sat in socks, boxers, and a loose shirt. Isaac stared up at Stiles' All Time Low poster, and let out a puff of laughter because...wow, what a dork.  
  
"Try liking the girl who stuck knives into you. More than once."  
  
"Actually, I think those were Chinese ring daggers. Those are her weapon of choice past the bow an' all," Stiles said.  
  
Stiles rolled onto his side, facing Isaac. Isaac copied the motion, rolling in so close their noses were touching. He made the fatal mistake of dropping his eyes to watch Stiles' mouth when it opened to speak a second time.  
  
"I don't like you."

"I don't like you either," Isaac said, tone tentative.  
  
"It just sucks having no one else around."  
  
Isaac hummed, low in his throat.  
  
"I'm gonna try something. I think it'll help."  
  
Isaac, with his heightened perception, could hear the pop of a bedspring low in the mattress when Stiles shifted his weight. He could feel the push of Stiles' muscles, and it was as if Stiles was moving in slow motion. It gave him all the time in the world to lay out in his back, helping Stiles straddle his hips.

Isaac tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but Stiles pushed him back down into the bedding. He sprawled flat against the wolf, dark eyes nearly crossing as he watched Isaac's mouth with focus. Their mouths met warmly. Isaac could feel all his sleepless nights melting away and almost forgot he had to react, because kissing was clearly a two way street.  
  
When they broke apart, Stiles knit his brow, perplexed. He laid a thumb on the seam of Isaac's lips, then squeaked when Isaac's tongue darted out and licked the pad of his finger. Stiles rolled back off Isaac, leaning against the pillows. Now they were stacked like jenga blocks on the bed, with Stiles putting his socked feet over the middle of Isaac's stomach.  
  
"Can we do that more?" Stiles asked. "It doesn't have to mean anything. I--"  
  
"You think it'll help."  
  
"Yeah, I do. It'll help 'cause every time we watch movies you have wandering hand syndrome and it's _seriously_ starting to distract me."  
  
Isaac barked a laugh, then shoved Stiles' legs off his tummy. He moved to get onto the floor, seeing as the energy in the room was starting to wind down. Stiles grabbed his arm, grip tight. Isaac could've easily broken free, but he allowed it.  
  
"Stay up here."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"'Cause you always sleep on the floor. It's stupid."  
  
"You're stupid," Isaac retorted.  
  
"You really weren't kidding about not being witty, were you?"

They didn't wrap around one another. They didn't even bother putting the blankets on over their legs. Isaac radiated enough heat to be the sole reason global warming was even a problem, and they pressed their backs together, trying to drown out the nightmares.  
  
The next day, they pretended nothing had happened, because nothing had changed. Isaac ignored the piercing glares Scott continued to gave him when he got into Allison's space, Stiles ignored the scalding rejection Lydia paved for him when he so much as alluded to why getting involved with one of the alpha twins was a bad idea.  
  
The next week, Isaac didn't try to initiate anything.  
  
It was a Friday night and one day off the full moon. Stiles' dad had fallen asleep in front of the TV, an impressive singular beer bottle set on the coffee table in front of him and infomercials were rattling off statistics like it was actually interesting. Isaac had to creep his way up the stairs to Stiles' room. He considered asking Stiles to leave his window open for him, for the future.

He was a little...on edge. This month's moon cycle was building to an impressive peak. The stress of such energy was coursing under his skin, itching, bubbling like pop rocks in soda. He pushed the door open to Stiles' room with a creak.  
  
There was an open pizza box on top of the laptop. Articles had been cut from magazines, pictures printed out, and they were all stuck to the wall with push pins. Yarn was crossing all over the walls, connecting pictures together.  
  
Isaac had seen Stiles do this before. He did it 'cause his dad did it at the station. Stiles hardly ever had a real reason to make a red-lines-conspiracy wall. Last time he'd done it, it was when he was trying to solve the Legend of Zelda timeline. Isaac squinted and, yep, he could recognize a few of the figures in the pictures Stiles had put up. It appeared that this conspiracy wall was dedicated to plot holes in some Halo oriented Machinima web series.  
  
Stiles turned on his heel at the sound of the door, ripping his focus from the pictures on the wall and closing in on Isaac.  
  
"Now?" Isaac asked. He didn't have to say more.  
  
Stiles nodded, breath shaking from his parted lips. He dragged Isaac down by the collar and gave him a biting kiss. Stiles' cold hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him in place, the other sliding under his shirt and resting at his hip; Isaac made an appreciative noise.  
  
Isaac was sure that Stiles could give his all and more with Isaac flattened against the door, but Isaac demanded they move over to the bed. He was excited to have Stiles settle on top of his lap, pillows and headboard keeping him upright. There really wasn't much room for the both of them, but at the moment, it wasn't posing to be much of a problem.  
  
Stiles couldn't keep still. He kept rubbing Isaac's arms, then rolling his hips down at a fucking awesome angle, then panting at Isaac's neck. Each movement blended into the next. Isaac was getting a bit too into it, though, and he could feel his claws itching out from his fingers. He moaned when Stiles' hands dropped between their bodies to undo the zipper of his jeans.  
  
Stiles leaned back, drawing his lips away from Isaac's in time for Isaac to feel teeth filing to clean points. Isaac flinched, eyes burning gold and his body stinging as he struggled to fight off the changes.  
  
Isaac _knows_ what he thought.    

'The small space of the bed isn't gonna be a problem.'  
  
Well, guess what? It was a problem, because he jerked away from Stiles fast enough to tip them both out onto the floor. They spilled over one another, and Stiles remembered the last time Isaac had started to shift while embedded into the same flooring.  
  
"Oh, shit, tomorrow's the full moon," Stiles realized, scrambling to hold Isaac down with all his weight. "Try to calm back down, pull it back."  
  
"I _can't_ ," Isaac growled, writhing as his ears turned leathery and angled back.  
  
"Can't you, like...make me your anchor?" Stiles spit out, gaping as Isaac fought for control.  
  
"What? You?" Isaac managed. His voice was growing hoarse as he felt the sides to his face filling in with fur.  
  
"Yeah, it's what Scott used to do with Allison. He made her his anchor. I thought you knew that!"  
  
Isaac reacted to that, loud and bubbling up from deep in his chest to the point that Stiles could feel it resonating in Isaac's ribcage. He winced, then realized Isaac was hiccuping with laughter. His claws relented its assault onto the carpet.

"What? What's so funny?" Stiles asked, searching Isaac's contorted face as he continued to laugh. His eyes were screwed shut and he was still squirming up under Stiles, but his chest was heaving because he was fighting to catch his breath back from his fit.

"That's--"  
  
A slight chuckle. He let his head loll, cheek pressing into the shag rug.

"That's the gayest thing I've ever heard," he mused, mouth tilting into a grin.  
  
Stiles mumbled something under his breath, trying his best not to laugh at Isaac's little outburst. He brought one hand to cup Isaac's cheek, feeling the spiky hairs poking at the lines in his palm. He could feel them impossibly retracting, but anything about the situational werewolves felt sort of impossible.  
  
"At least it stopped you from going all wolf on me," Stiles said. "Now I don't have any real reason to have to tie you up."  
  
The last words hung in the air with a sense of promise, and Isaac switched from effervescent to craving. The pit of his stomach ached at the thought of being bound by this...by this nerdy _kid_ who he could overpower in seconds.  
  
"Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?"  
  
Isaac nodded weakly.  
  
Stiles smiled all too sweetly for the current circumstance. "Thought so," he said, then clucked his tongue. He shoved Isaac's shoulders onto the floor, grinding his hips back down onto the blonde's. He pulled at Isaac's curls so that his neck was better accessible. Stiles bit at the pale skin there gently.  
  
"Stay."  
  
All weight was alleviated when Stiles came to a stand, leaving Isaac spread out on the ground. Where his shirt was hitched up, he could feel the sting of rug burn along his back fighting to heal as time ticked by.  
  
Stiles grabbed the bundle of blue yarn off the desk with one hand, the scissors in the other. He placed them delicately next to Isaac, then leaned down to scratch Isaac's belly. Isaac wasn't sure why that felt as good as it did, but it left tingling sparks along his spine. He grabbed at the hem to Isaac's shirt and tugged on it. Isaac completed the action, pulling it off over his head and throwing it toward the door.

"Roll over?" Stiles tried, and was delighted when Isaac obliged. He snorted. "Oh my god, you actually did that one."  
  
"You're telling me I didn't have to? 'Cause I will grab you and shove you into the bed, Stilinski," Isaac warned, voice muffled. "I'm trying to play nice."

"I'm all for playing out that scenario later," Stiles said. "Right now it's my turn."  
  
He settled onto his thighs, taking Isaac's arms and folding them behind his back with care. "Remember to tell me if you're not feeling up for this," Stiles reminded him.  
  
Isaac rolled his eyes. "If you're using yarn, I could probably just cut out of them with my claws."  
  
"Then what? Cut _me_ with your claws? I'm trying to avoid injuries here."  
  
He pulled out a long strand of the yarn and started to wind it around Isaac's wrists, over and over until there were four of five thick layers of the stuff keeping his arms against his back. He snipped the end of the string with the scissors and knotted it tight. He sat back and admired his handiwork, then slanted forward to press a kiss to the side of Isaac's face. Stiles spoke like an owner would to a pet when he planted a quick kiss to the shell of Isaac's ear.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
Isaac whined. He thought, maybe that should've been a more embarrassing noise than it actually was. Stiles turned him over onto his back once more and nudged off Isaac's pants. His legs were skinny, blonde hairs barely visible. His knees weren't knobby (like Stiles') and his calves had impressive definition (unlike Stiles').  
  
So.  
  
Clothing count.

Isaac, down to his boxers and not much else. Stiles, perfectly content to keep covered in his nightwear, even when initiating what Isaac classified as sex.  
  
Stiles snapped the waistband to Isaac's underwear. Stiles cupped the shape of him through the cloth, giving him much needed pressure in the places it counted.

"Want these on or off?" he asked casually. "I'm keeping mine on. More of a formality for me to ask, really."  
  
"If this were in any way formal, I'd be in a tuxedo," Isaac wheezed. His wrists were enduring the strain of the yarn rubbing at his skin, tinting a raw pink. "Can you take them off and actually _do_ something?"

"Jeez, Isaac, where's your manners?"  
  
With great effort: " _Please_."  
  
"That's better."  
  
Stiles had messed around with people before. Fumbling around at parties with other lost boys and girls who were too drunk to realize who they'd climbed on top of. Nothing had ever gone below the belt, though, and Stiles was breaching new territory with each breath. He dipped his fingers under the band to Isaac's boxers and tugged them down over his thighs. Isaac lifted his hips to help removing the offending cloth.  
  
Stiles felt his hands start to shake as he put his hand around the length, brow furrowed in concentration. His tongue was poking from the corner of his mouth as he watched his own hand work Isaac up to a semi.  
  
"Relax," Isaac said, pushing his hips up to meet the jerky motion.  
  
"I'm relaxed," Stiles insisted. His hand was sticky as Isaac seemed to be creating his own slick, probably another werewolf perk. Stiles usually documented stuff on lycaon pros and cons in a leather bound notebook, but he figured these kinds of details would be best for private use.  
  
"No, you're not, you're thinking too much about this," Isaac said.

Stiles bent to kiss him, shutting him up and still loosely moving his hand between them. His movements weren't made with any sense of perfection, and Isaac arched his back to press more into the feeling of it. Stiles was smearing enough mess across Isaac's stomach and it felt warm in contrast to his shockingly icy fingers.

"I'm trying here, alright?" Stiles laughed, hiding his face in Isaac's neck.  
  
"You could try taking your pants off," Isaac pointed out.  
  
Stiles worried his bottom lip with his teeth, then inched back off the wolf. Isaac closed his eyes, breathing slowly through the loss of contact. He heard Stiles bumping around near the bed, ears picking up the swish of cotton against skin. When his eyes fluttered back open, Stiles was sitting between Isaac's spread legs. He was unscrewing the cap on a thing of lube, getting it on his bony fingers. He put the tube with the other cast aside items.  
  
Isaac let his gaze drop to Stiles' dick, which his own hand was curling around. He made a slight whine as he started off on an even rhythm. The movements he made on himself were far more practiced, his shoulders dropping the tension they'd retained from earlier. Isaac was transfixed with the way Stiles shivered. He could do nothing but watch as Stiles sat before him and put on a show. Isaac's wrists twisted in the twine, wanting to put his hands to good use.

"Stiles, come _on_."  
  
"Okay, I--"

Isaac gave a rumbling growl, thrashing against his constraints and forcing Stiles to jump to hold him back down. This flurry of motion caused Stiles' dick to slide along the line of Isaac's stomach. Stiles kept his hands steady on Isaac's broad shoulders, thrusting shallowly at Isaac's skin.  
  
"Oh my god," he gasped, mouth falling open when Isaac's legs came to wrap around Stiles' waist and hold him in place. Isaac was moving his hips in tandem with Stiles.  
  
Stiles felt pathetically desperate, rubbing one off on Isaac and making these little mewling sounds where the boy below him in contrast was almost silent. Isaac couldn't make noise with the way his breath was caught in his throat. He felt like a spring wound tight, a pink flush spreading down his bare chest. He was so much taller than Stiles, and bent nearly in half to keep up with his hurried pace. His cock was somehow satisfied with this entire situation, though.  
  
Stiles couldn't hold himself up anymore, arms shaking. He let his body drop, finding Isaac's mouth like a moth to flame. His hips stuttered and he tensed up, leaving the impressions of crescent moons into Isaac's side from his nails. Isaac licked at Stiles' chapped lips. Stiles opened up for him, letting Isaac languidly kiss him. His come streaked along Isaac's front, sticking to the fabric of Stiles' shirt. Isaac kind of liked the feeling of clothes rubbing at his bare skin, he decided, as Stiles rocked through his orgasm at Isaac's hip.  
  
"Fuck," Stiles said, trembling. His chest was heaving and Isaac was hyper aware of the sound of his heartbeat beating wildly. He could hear it flooding his ears, sickly sweet and making his teeth bare. Isaac counted the seconds between each throbbing pulse, the intervals slowing as Stiles' breath evened out.  
  
Once he'd calmed back down, he picked himself up and went back to work to repay Isaac of the favour. Isaac resolved back to a wreck within seconds, and then Stiles was dipping down over him. He gave an experimental lick across the head of Isaac's dick, and unfortunately for Stiles, that's what set him off.  
  
"Isaac, _no_ ," Stiles exclaimed, laughing as he got come in his hair and kind of all over his face. He just squeezed his eyes shut and jerked him off through it, making Isaac laugh in the middle of a hitching moan. When Isaac stilled, Stiles took the edge of his shirt and tried to wipe at his face with it, which only made it worse.  
  
"Help me," Stiles croaked, sitting with his hands held away from him and his shirt fucked up and stifling laughter.  
  
"You are such a loser," Isaac snorted, bringing out his claws and working at the yarn binding him. It was cut off with ease and he moved toward his own shirt. He grabbed it and used it to clean off Stiles' face, then closed the gap of space to have their lips meet.  
  
They pulled away with a smack. An actual resounding pop came from their mouths, as if they'd been stuck together. Stiles wet his lips, blinking owlishly at Isaac. The wolf was combing his hands through his ruffled hair, come drying at his skin and a sheen of sweat left him with a grimy gloss. Isaac's eyes dropped to the yarn. He reached for it, holding it up for Stiles to see.

"It's blue," Isaac said. "Any particular reason for this colour? I mean, you've obviously got quite the selection." His hand waved in the air, showcasing the lines of reds and greens strung about Stiles' room.  
  
"Blue's pretty," Stiles shrugged. "Now close your eyes, 'cause I gotta change into different clothes and I don't want you seeing me shirtless."  
  
Only Stiles would be concerned of that after basically fucking Isaac into the floor. Isaac closed his eyes and even went the extra mile of covering his face with his hands. He listened to drawers opening, closing, and Stiles cursing as he whacked into something. Stiles told him when it was okay to look, and when he did, Stiles was in sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.  
  
"I'll deal with these later," he said, taking their dirtied clothes and crumpling them into a ball. He stuffed them into the bottom of his hamper.  
  
They sat up on Stiles' bed, halfheartedly laying on one another and fighting off sleep. Isaac had been given permission to borrow some of Stiles' clothes. Admittedly, they didn't fit all that well because Stiles was tiny in comparison to Isaac's taller build. It would be a better alternative to Stiles' dad walking in on Isaac half naked the following morning, though.  
  
Stiles was dragging his fingers over Isaac's scalp and Isaac's limbs felt heavy. Stiles was rambling on about something, but Isaac was having a really hard time focusing on whatever it was he was saying.  
  
"Hey," Stiles prompted.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"We still don't like each other, right?"  
  
The bed squeaked when Isaac flipped over to look up at him.

"Of course. I hate you, Stilinski, that's why I come by every night to see you."  
  
"Oh, good," Stiles said, fighting back a half smile. "'Cause I still hate you, like...get out of my room. What are you even doing here?"  
  
"Bothering you. 'S what I do best."  
  
They fell back into quiet, Isaac laying on Stiles' leg as Stiles carded through blonde curls. He was slumped over Stiles' lap, lulled into a light sleep. As they fell asleep practically atop one another, Stiles drooling on Isaac's shoulder and Isaac trapped in his arms, it was apparent that yes; they had somebody.


End file.
